


Aggressive Negotiations

by iavenjqasdf



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Gay Sex, Hatesex, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, dubcon, handjobs, minor breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/pseuds/iavenjqasdf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryouma and Marx settle their kingdom's differences the old-fashioned way</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aggressive Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> So remember how I said you can read my "Tale of Two Princes" story with the subtext of Ryouma and Marx's "meetings" actually being hatesex?
> 
> That's what this is
> 
> Thanks to squeak and @agoddamn for help proofreading!

Ryouma slammed the door shut, silently thanking the gods that Takumi had thought his face was flushed with rage rather than blush. He had only cracked it open a few inches, hoping the idiots fighting outside wouldn’t notice his especially messy hair, or the flecks of spit dotted around his mouth. Marx had hastily scrambled off the table and ducked out of sight, cursing as he tripped over the pants bunched about his ankles and nearly stumbled into a shelf, before shouting half-heartedly at his own sibling.

Ryouma sighed, the taste of Nohrian cock still fresh on his breath.

“Are they gone?” Marx inquired, saliva-coated erection growing soft. “Was that interruption necessary? We could’ve been discovered!”

Ryouma glared at him. “Pardon me for valuing the wellbeing of my brother over that of your cock, but it seemed Leon wasabout to be strangled.”

Marx huffed sharply, the mood to continue having long vanished. “I’m sure he’d have been fine,” he grumbled, reluctantly tucking his cock back into his smallclothes. Ryouma closed the distance between them with a few strides, planting his foot firmly on Marx’s waist to force him back down.

“Is that all, then? You won’t even allow me the indignity of finishing what I started?”

“It was your decision to abandon your task. Live with the consequences,” Marx spat, shoving Ryouma’s boot aside and standing. “If you’ll excuse me, I think this ‘meeting’ is ov-” He was cut off by Ryouma’s hand on his elegantly coiffed hair, seizing it mercilessly as he invaded Marx’s mouth with his tongue. Marx’s eyes went wide with anger, disgusted by the taste of himself on Ryouma's lips. He pushed Ryouma’s chest to little avail in an attempt to force him off.

Ryouma detached with a pant, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand to sever the string of spit that connected them. “I don’t think you’re in any shape to leave with your hair in such condition, Prince Marx. Unless you can fix it without the help of the handmaidens that no doubt pamper you in your sleep, it would be quite undignified to leave in such a state,” he breathed, smug smile stretching wider as Marx bared his teeth. “If you’d like to preserve what little facade of honor you still have, you’d be wise to remain here until nightfall, when such immodesty would go less noticed.”

Marx glared daggers at Ryouma, wishing he had brought his sword to cut that grin from his face. “Such a vile tactic, though I’d expect nothing less from one of you,” he growled.

Moments passed as they stared at one another. “So what do you propose we do to pass the time?” Marx asked, breaking the silence at last.

“To begin with, perhaps you could thank me for keeping my brother from wiping the floor with yours,” Ryouma responded, bringing down his pants with one fluid motion, leaving a sizeable bulge barely concealed by his fundoshi.

Marx balked at the sight. “What’s gotten into you? Have some decency and finish me off first!”

“It was your decision to make me abandon my task. Live with the consequences,” Ryouma mirrored Marx’s earlier words, unable to contain the shit-eating grin that spread across his face.

Marx sighed in defeat, unable to look Ryouma in the eye as he reached for his garment, fumbling to untie it for a moment before simply pushing it aside and removing his cock.

He exhaled and averted his gaze, silently repeating to himself that this was just a routine part of diplomacy as he gave it a few half-hearted tugs. Ryouma folded his arms across his chest, refusing to assist, even somewhat amused with the Nohrian’s inexperience; it was clear that Marx was more used to being served rather than serving, and Ryouma almost considered it an act of charity to teach him to reciprocate.

Marx’s face was ablaze with embarrassment, not only at what his actions, but at how little they seemed to affect Ryouma’s length, which wasn’t lacking in even in this soft state. “Quit being so shy, you’re getting me nowhere,” Ryouma taunted, and Marx glowered as he pulled back the foreskin, exposing the lobster-red head to the air, glistening with precum and gods-know-what-else. He gagged at the sight, though Ryouma seemed to remain nonplussed as he stared down his nose.

Unsure of what to do with it, Marx settled for rubbing his thumb in circles around the head of the cock as he stroked the looser skin of Ryouma’s shaft. Ryouma let out a small purr of arousal as his manhood started to twitch with life, gradually growing harder in Marx’s hand. Marx felt a measure of relief; at least now it was hard enough to do something with.

He looked at Ryouma, who nodded at him from above, an infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. Marx clamped his eyes shut and uttered one final prayer for the gods to turn a blind eye to the sinful act he was about to commit, and brought his lips to the tip of Ryouma’s erection, reluctantly taking the head into his mouth. His tongue grazed the slit, tasting the bitter pre-cum that seeped forth, before he tucked it to the bottom of his jaw as he inched his way further down the shaft.

Ryouma grunted approvingly, one hand grasping Marx’s tousled hair as the other balled into a tight fist at his side. He waited until Marx had gone as deep as he could and began to bring his head back to thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in Marx’s mouth, until his dainty nose rested against Ryouma’s curly, unkempt pubic hair. Marx retched at the sudden intrusion, saliva dribbling down his chin as he struggled to yank himself back to get some much-needed air, but he was kept in place by Ryouma’s firm grip on his head.

“Use your nose,” Ryouma commanded, and Marx considered biting down in retort, before deciding that such an act would destroy any hope of this meeting coming to fruition. Tears welled in his eyes as he breathed in, gagging again. A wicked grin formed on Ryouma’s face at the humiliation his rival was facing, as he kept him in place for several more heartbeats. At last, Ryouma allowed Marx to tear himself away, hand remaining in place to prevent him from withdrawing fully.

Marx distanced himself as far as he was granted, letting out a soft breath of relief until Ryouma plunged in again, feeling the tip of his cock brush against the back of Marx’s trembling throat. This continued for a few repetitions, Marx trying to set his own pace while Ryouma forced him into another, until he finally surrendered, allowing Ryouma to do with him as he pleased. Ryouma growled a few utterances of encouragement as he held Marx’s head with both hands, using the Nohrian’s mouth to pleasure himself, savoring the sighs and groans that poured from his throat with each thrust.

As Ryouma felt his climax approaching, he contemplated whether it would be more humbling to have his cum decorating Marx’s sculpted countenance, or deposited in his stomach. He figured the latter might lead to some… upheaval, so he let go of Marx’s head as his orgasm hit, roaring with pleasure as he released himself onto the prince. Marx pulled away, gasping for air, barely registering the ropes of ejaculate spattering his face and trickling down his chiseled jaw.

The last spasm of pleasure faded as Ryouma remained standing over the mess he had made of Marx, remaining hard at the sight of his adversary’s face marked so boldly as his. Ryouma drove him to the floor, sinking to his knees as he lickied the jism off Marx’s lips before plunging his tongue against his, forcing him to literally taste his submission once more.

Marx made no effort to parry the probing flesh, last shreds of dignity evaporating as he felt a hand roughly grab his own hardness. Ryouma tore his lips away as he straddled Marx’s legs, hustling the fabric of his pants down to reveal the half-stiff cock lying against his abdomen, arousal dripping lazily from the tip. Marx cast his eyes downward, unable to process what Ryouma was doing.

“Wait-” he managed to wheeze between heavy breaths before Ryouma engulfed his cock, wrapping a fist around what he couldn’t fit in his mouth while the other advanced to Marx’s balls. He cupped the firm sac and gave it a gentle squeeze, eliciting a strangled groan from Marx as he swirled his tongue around the head of his arousal, quickly noting what got the greatest reaction from him.

Marx bucked his hips involuntarily, but Ryouma held them to the ground with his spare hand, re-establishing control as he continued to work with his mouth. Another shameless moan left Marx’s throat at the sensations enveloping his length, of Ryouma’s wild mane cascading around and tickling his groin, and soon he felt his climax building.

“Oh, gods, I- I’m going to-” he sputtered, voice hoarse with lust, and Ryouma pulled himself away, pumping Marx’s cock with his hand as his release spurted forth, landing in messy globs on his thighs and Ryouma’s fist. Marx’s chest heaved as he tried to regain his composure after such a hasty orgasm. Ryouma slipped a hand into the blond’s locks again, subtly wiping it off as he pulled Marx into another, more tender kiss.

By now, Marx had grown accustomed to, if not quite fond of, the taste of his own essence, which he uncertainly accepted from Ryouma as he breathed into his mouth, erection gradually softening. The surprisingly gentle kiss came to an end, and Ryouma gazed at Marx with a look of near-admiration, worlds away from the rough dominance he had displayed moments ago.

He rose and helped Marx to his feet with a soft smile, even giving him a playful pat on the bottom as Marx wordlessly pulled up his pants. He cocked an eyebrow, surprised again as he felt strong arms wrap around him from behind, tousled hair teasing his nape as Ryouma cooed tenderly against his ear. “What’s gotten into you?” Marx asked softly, baffled by the sudden transformation.

“Would you prefer I bare your ass again and take you like a dog?” Ryouma murmured sweetly into his ear, nibbling at the lobe. Marx shuddered at the suggestion, but determined this next stage of diplomacy could wait till later.

“No… this is fine,” Marx sighed, unable to do much but stand there and feel the warmth of the man behind him, still unsure of what had taken hold of Ryouma, but thankful for it nonetheless.

* * *

 

"So well mannered..." Marx muttered as he signalled for a servant to take his plate as Ryouma downed a third cup of tea, earning a bemused glance from Marx. “You’re still not awake? How fucked out were you after yesterday?” he teased, making sure their brothers were out of earshot before reaching under the table, prompting a groggy noise of confusion from Ryouma.

“Don’t worry, I know something that’ll perk you right up…” he whispered seductively, reaching under the hem of Ryouma’s pants and tugging his fundoshi aside. After the sudden switch in moods yesterday, Marx had formed a theory that Ryouma would mellow out significantly after an orgasm, something he was about to put to the test.

“And the servants? Are they accustomed to such behavior at the table?” Ryouma grumbled, showing no outward reaction to Marx’s hand working his stiffening shaft.

“I ordered them to give us some privacy for a classified discussion, but I suppose you were napping when I said that,” he lied; a butler could’ve returned to offer them some tea at any moment, the thought of which drove Marx to hasten his strokes. He noticed Ryouma rest his head on his knuckles, shutting his eyes as a faint blush bloomed on his cheeks.

Marx smirked triumphantly at Ryouma’s increasingly ragged breathing, culminating in a choked sigh as he came, making a mess of the bottom of the table. Marx calmly withdrew his hand, casually wiping it on his napkin as if he had merely brushed something off his leg. Ryouma sat rigidly in place for a few more moments, before tucking his softening dick back into his pants, silently plotting his revenge as he returned to his morning meal.

* * *

As they left for the meeting room, it was Marx’s behavior that had changed. He carried himself with more confidence and poise than Ryouma expected from a man whose face had been coated with his jism less than a day ago. He supposed Marx had thought coaxing an orgasm out of him would soften his demeanor, perhaps enough to allow him to take the reins during today’s round of talks.

Oh, how mistaken he would soon find he was.

Marx quietly shut the door to the meeting room, still proud of having thought of such a handy excuse to get his brother out of his hair to avoid any further interruptions today. No sooner had he turned the deadbolt lock that he felt Ryouma grab him from behind, his stiffness prodding at Marx’s shapely rear.

“Did you really think what you did at breakfast would make me go easy on you?” Ryouma hissed, his hot breath on Marx’s ear making him shiver with a want he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. Ryouma ground forcefully into him again, provoking a gasp from Marx as he shoved him face-first into the cold door. “I was tender with you after yesterday’s activities as a reward for your good behavior, but it seems you came away from that with the wrong lesson.”

Marx struggled to keep his voice even, trying to hide his arousal at being so thoroughly at the other man’s mercy. “Ryouma, let us be civil for a moment. I was simply-” Ryouma shoved an elbow between Marx’s shoulders, pinning his body against the polished wood, growling into his ear.

“Civility was no longer an option from the moment you jerked me off at breakfast.”

Marx felt like he knew what was to come, the hardness pressed into his backside filling him equally with fear and desire. He had never been taken by a man like this, having been on the giving end himself on very few occasions, but Ryouma’s intensity had ignited a fire within him, one that he grew more desperate to quench with each rise of the prince's broad chest against his back.

He heard pants dropping to the floor behind him, and a set of calloused fingers probed at his lips. “Open,” Ryouma ordered, and Marx complied a bit too eagerly, tongue trailing copious amounts of drool as he sucked the salty taste from the digits. They retreated from his mouth with a sloppy smack, and he braced himself to be penetrated, unsure of what to expect next.

He certainly didn’t expect a grunt from Ryouma as he felt his body jolt slightly. Was he- was he preparing himself? Marx’s brain swam with questions, expectations confounded completely by Ryouma’s actions once again. “Wh-what are you doing?” he blustered, finding himself freed from the iron grip. He turned to find Ryouma sitting himself on the table, biting his lip to stifle his moans as he stretched himself.

“What, are you waiting for a formal invitation? Move!” Ryouma panted. Marx stood, frozen in place at the sight of the Hoshidan crown prince, brazenly splayed out before him, beckoning Marx to fill him. He drew an unsteady breath as he undid his leggings, erection springing free from its confines at last. He cautiously approached Ryouma, who wore an impatient scowl as he waited for Marx to act.

“I don’t understand. Weren’t you the one commanding me until now?” Marx mumbled, embarrassed but sincerely confused by the demands placed upon him.

Ryouma sneered. “Look at yourself; standing there cock in hand, unable to follow a simple instruction. Do you honestly believe you’re in charge just because you’re going to be the one fucking me?” Marx blushed as he shuffled awkwardly over to the shelf, seemingly searching for something. “What, running off scared? What are you looking for?”

“Some sort of lubricant… I wouldn’t wish to cause you pain in th-”

“For fucks sake! Just spit on your hand and use that! Now get over here and establish diplomatic relations like a man!” Ryouma bellowed, grateful for the privacy that allowed him be as raucous as he pleased. Marx did as he was told, finding his mouth suddenly dry but gathering some saliva all the same, before rubbing it clumsily around his erection. Ryouma growled, urging Marx to hurry up.

“How shall we do this?” Marx asked apprehensively as he approached, trying to figure out the logistics of this position. Ryouma lifted his legs, resting his calves on Marx’s shoulders as he lined himself up with his erection.

“There. Now that you’ve made me do everything for you, why don’t you return the favor and FUCK ME ALREADY,” Ryouma hissed. Marx tentatively brought his hips forward, slowly sinking his cock into Ryouma’s waiting hole. “Keep going!” Ryouma grunted, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself as Marx took hold of his waist, pushing deeper into Ryouma, savoring the tightness engulfing his cock until his balls rested flush with Ryouma’s cheeks.

Marx’s eyes were closed, teeth gritted as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead from the unbelievable sensations surrounding his cock. Ryouma seemed to be coming undone as well, jaw clenching as he stretched to accommodate Marx’s girth, silently cursing himself for neglecting proper lubrication, but knowing he'd grow used to it soon enough. Marx pulled out about halfway, before ramming back in with more ease than expected, hitting a spot inside Ryouma with the tip of his shaft. Ryouma shuddered with pleasure, tightening involuntarily around Marx and squeezing a gasp from him.

“Gods, yes…” Ryouma panted, and Marx withdrew again before slamming back in with even greater speed. This time, Ryouma howled, digging his nails into the underside of the table as his knuckles went white. Sweat rolled down his broad chest, which Marx couldn’t tear his eyes off, transfixed at the way Ryouma’s muscles flexed and rolled with each buck of his hips.

Ryouma caught Marx’s hungry stare as his speed gradually increased, hitting that spot inside him with almost every thrust. “Like what you see?” Ryouma purred, taking Marx’s focused, lust-clouded expression to mean “yes”. “You’re doing well. I think you’ve earned this.” Ryouma pushed off Marx’s cock, prompting a confused, needy whine from him.

“Get on the table,” Ryouma ordered, and Marx eagerly complied, desperate to get that hot ass around him again as quickly as he could, lying where Ryouma had moments ago. Ryouma straddled Marx's hips on his knees, grabbing Marx’s erection in one hand as he positioned himself over it. He lowered himself onto the shaft, a contented noise escaping his lips as he sank onto the hardness and felt it press against his prostate again.

“How’s this for a view?” Ryouma smirked, leaning back as he slowly resumed his movement, light from the window glistening off his sweat-soaked torso. All Marx managed was a strangled groan as another wave of euphoria washed over his body. He was too far gone to hold back, a stream of “oh gods” and “please”s pouring from his mouth as he felt his orgasm build.

“What’s that? Speak up,” Ryouma mocked, knowing damn well what Marx wanted. It was pure cliche, but the way Marx’s moans increased in volume and desperation told him it still did the trick. He felt his own climax approaching rapidly, and decided Marx deserved recompense for his servitude.

But he’d have to earn it first.

Ryouma brought his arms forward to either side of Marx’s chest as he halted his movement, buying himself some time as well as stalling Marx’s impending release. A single syllable left his lips.

“Beg.”

Marx was a mess, his once neat and curly hair damp from sweat and splayed every which way as he panted heavily. He rested his hands on Ryouma’s thighs, urging him to resume his movement, earning himself a slap on the wrist from the Hoshidan. “When did I say you could touch me? I told you to beg!” he snarled.

Moisture gathered in Marx’s eyes at his desperation and Ryouma’s cruelty, denying him the relief he was mere inches away from. “Ryouma, please… p-please, I-”

“Please what? What is it that you need?”

“P-peace! Peace between our kingdoms! Please! I just need you to-!”

“Say it! Say you need me!” Ryouma interrupted again, cherishing the wanton desire on display.

“P-Prince Ryouma, please! I need y- I need you to fuck me!” Marx cried at last, clenching his eyes shut as tears flowed forth, too far gone to hesitate any further.

“It’s a promise,” Ryouma beamed as he slammed back down onto Marx’s cock, picking up at a faster pace than before. Marx cried out with gratification as he brought his hands to Ryouma’s thighs again, hesitating before he made contact.

“May I-?”

Ryouma lunged forward, a feral growl erupting from his throat as he sunk his teeth hungrily into Marx’s neck, bracing his arms beside him. Marx threw his head back, moaning with pleasure as his hands scrambled for purchase on Ryouma’s back, digging his nails into his toned shoulders, holding on as if for dear life.

The heightened pace brought Marx to the brink of release quicker than ever before. “I’m s-so close. Ryouma, please let m-me cum!” he begged, before being silenced with another ravenous kiss. Ryouma shuddered, and Marx felt him clench tightly once more before Ryouma's warm essence spattered against his chest, driving him off the edge as he came inside Ryouma’s tight walls with a howl.

Ryouma slid off Marx at last, laying beside him, breaths coming out short and ragged, completely exhausted from his intense orgasm. Marx rolled over onto his side, facing Ryouma, tears trickling down his cheeks as he sobbed softly. He couldn’t believe himself, being dominated so quickly and easily by this foreign prince, and now he was crying in his presence?

A pang of guilt struck Ryouma at the sight of the other price’s tear-stained face. He’d intended to break Marx, make him more malleable to agree to own conditions, but now, seeing him as such a wreck, and by his own deeds no less, he started to feel something else for him, too. Something more genuine, more driven by emotion than pragmatism. Could it be…?

Ryouma scrunched his eyes shut, casting the thought from his mind as he wrapped his arms around Marx’s trembling body, holding the prince to his warm chest until the snivels faded into soft whimpers. Marx huddled closer to the source of the heat, the overwhelming tiredness that hit him after sex setting in, and soon he was lulled into a gentle sleep, Ryouma following him soon after.

**Author's Note:**

> there was supposed to be a fluffier part 3 here but I wasn't able to think of anything for a good 2 months so fuck it, enjoy


End file.
